It Was Justin Peck’s First ‘Rodeo,’ and He Turned It on Its Head

<First published online in the New York Times on August 26, 2016>

The world premiere of Justin Peck’s ballet “Rodeo: Four Dance Episodes,” in February 2015, caused a sensation. Mr. Peck was 27 and had been resident choreographer to New York City Ballet for a few months. This was his freshest, most assured and most individual work to date.

Since then, Mr. Peck’s “Rodeo” has survived a number of cast changes and remained intact. (Whether a dance can thrive beyond its original dancers is an important test of durability and — to apply a surprising word to choreography — character.) Its effect on the audience is inspiring. Here is a young work, with young values. Nothing was created along these lines in the 20th century; it has made many people rejoice to be watching dance in the 21st.

What makes this “Rodeo” matter? It gives new life to classic American music by Aaron Copland. By using 15 men and one woman, it sets up situations that challenge ballet’s usual focus on femininity and heterosexual chivalry. It’s a comedy, with several memorable dance jokes. It’s multiracial, but without making this an issue. And — though not requiring its audience to understand — it deconstructs a famous American ballet, Agnes de Mille’s “Rodeo” (1942).

Mr. Peck will be 29 next month. This summer, he agreed to conduct an email interview with me about “Rodeo.” When I sent him almost 40 questions, he sent thoughtful, good-humored replies. Here are edited excerpts from our exchange.

What were your overall intentions when preparing this ballet?

I deliberately wanted to invert the conventional “romantic ballet” setup. There is often one princely male among an all-female corps de ballet and one (maybe two) featured ballerinas. I wanted to take advantage of the fact that we are living in an age when the talent pool of male dancing in America has reached unprecedented heights. I wanted to explore a moving body of 15 men, partially because the resource was at my fingertips, and juxtapose that with one single leading ballerina.

What was it about this music that caught your fancy?

The kinetic energy that it embodies. It has a fundamentally American attack, buoyancy and rhythmic pulse. Every time I hear it, it feels both historically significant and brand new. It feels like home to me. It also felt deep enough for the exploration of an entirely different ballet, one that didn’t snub or get in the way of the Agnes de Mille original. That was important to me.

You’d seen the de Mille?

I remember seeing American Ballet Theater perform it about three years before I choreographed my version. The performance was very memorable, but what was most vivid was the gut feeling that the music gave me. I remember sitting in the third row, near the percussion and brass sections, and the experience of that felt extraordinarily physical. Like the sound waves pulsating against my skin.

I next watched it several times at the Library for the Performing Arts (different versions throughout the years), before I began my work on my ballet version. I wanted to make sure that there was a gap of time between studying her version and working on my own. I wanted to understand what she did, but I didn’t want her choreography to loom over me. That’s a delicate line to walk. I usually don’t work with music that has already been choreographed (especially not a work that is historically iconic), but I had an intuition that there was room for an entirely alternate exploration of the same piece of music.

City Ballet is still the house of the choreographer George Balanchine (1904-83). There are plotless ballets in which he distills or deconstructs older narrative ballets. Was this in your mind?

Yes! I’ve always felt that Balanchine is my ultimate teacher. I learn the most from observing his work and also dancing in it. And his plotless ballets in which he distills or deconstructs gave me the confidence to approach the “Rodeo” score with a honed principal of focusing on the relationship between Music + Movement.

Your most daring departure from both de Mille and Balanchine was to choreograph Copland’s second movement, the “Corral Nocturne,” for five men.

I wanted to set a challenge for myself, and five men was a slightly obscure choice. Something I had not often seen. The “Nocturne” music reminded me of weather patterns for some reason — cyclical, somewhat predictable (though sometimes not), ethereal, magical, beautiful. Some intuition told me that five men would be the way to realize these qualities in relation to the music. I wanted to see how five men could use their body weight in counterbalance to each other — to extend their movements into a longer, more expansive state.

Your quintet shows how things have changed in the presentation of same-sex groups. Sexuality isn’t an issue for your five men. Love isn’t in the air. Neither is denial. They calmly support and lift one another.

Your most daring departure from both de Mille and Balanchine was to choreograph Copland’s second movement, the “Corral Nocturne,” for five men.

I don’t remember ever thinking of it sexually or nonsexually. It just was. I like to think we’re living in an age with a greater openness and freedom (at least here in New York) — and the beauty of that can be reflected in dance

The men in the very peaceful adagio are diverse. Was this polyethnic look always part of your plan?

It was never outright intentional, but I’m glad for the result. It plays into the balance of the choreography. It can also stand as symbol of where this art form is heading, i.e. greater diversity, balance and equality in terms of race and sex.

My grandfather James Peck was a civil rights activist. (He was one of the first Freedom Riders.) I like to think that he would have been particularly moved by the “Nocturne.”

Tell me about the woman in the first episode. This is a man’s world, but here she is.

I wanted her entrance to stand independently, but also juxtaposed against the grouping of men — to feel like she was dancing on the other side of a crowd. There is a defined choreographic diagonal emphasis for this moment, to make a space where Sara Mearns could dance freely. I wanted her solo to really kick ass — to embody absolute femininity but also potentially to show up any of the men in a way that none of them would expect.

The fourth movement starts with a particularly happy joke: a ‘motor moment’ for Amar Ramasar. He goes to the front and mimed starting a machine by pulling a cord.

I’m always interested in linking dance to mundane behavior that everyone can relate to. Most people have started a lawn mower engine, or at least have seen that action take place. I thought, what if after the pas de deux ends on this mysterious note, Amar gets distracted by the orchestra-as-machine. He discovers a foreign pull cord, and the next thing you know he is revving up the music for the finale.

It’s an actual pull-cord, which I bought myself from a website online (for something like $40, ha). I worked with the tech crew on a few renditions of how and where to attach it. Ultimately we felt it was best kept hidden in the light plot ridge at the edge of the stage.

I thought, this could either be really hilarious or really terrible. Luckily, people find the humor.The world premiere of Justin Peck’s ballet “Rodeo: Four Dance Episodes,” in February 2015, caused a sensation. Mr. Peck was 27 and had been resident choreographer to New York City Ballet for a few months. This was his freshest, most assured and most individual work to date.

@New York Times, 2016